


Giving Up the Fight

by mindy_makru_tutu



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-03
Updated: 2011-10-03
Packaged: 2019-08-27 09:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16700248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindy_makru_tutu/pseuds/mindy_makru_tutu
Summary: It was not meant to happen. But it did.





	Giving Up the Fight

_So if I had the chance, love, you know I would not hesitate,_  
_To tell you all the things I’ve never said before, don’t tell me it’s too late,_  
_Cos I’ve relied on my illusions to keep me warm at night,_  
_And I’ve denied my capacity to love, but I am willing to give up this fight_.

  
  
  
This was not meant to happen. Not yet.  
  
They both knew the score. They both knew he was in love with her. They both knew how much he was in love with her and how long he’d been in love with her. They both also knew that she couldn’t return that love, not in the way she wanted to, not in the way his love deserved. Not until her ghosts were finally laid to rest. That’s what she told him that day in the park, when they’d sat side-by-side on swings, speaking around and about the truth without ever naming it. She hadn’t been talking about Josh and part of her had hoped even then that he’d known that too. It had always been him, never anyone else. Nobody else even came close. It was only ever Castle. A man she still couldn’t bring herself to call by anything other than his last name, despite the fact that he was the only one who’d managed to breach the near insurmountable walls that surrounded her. And despite the fact that, as uncomfortable as it made her feel on a daily basis, in some secret corner of her well-concealed heart, Kate was glad he had.  
  
But that didn’t mean that this should happen.  
  
It happened anyway though. During one of their most heated, hurtful arguments, when the chronically unexpressed love they shared became feral and started taking prisoners on both sides. They both said things they didn’t mean; then quickly escalated to things they really did mean but never dared admit aloud. Usually, the only solution was for one of them to walk away. Usually, in such situations, her overly dogged personality got the better of her and she would not give an inch, leaving Castle to be the one with the clearer head. She relied on him to do that. She relied on him to take the hurt she dished out and hurt her back with perfectly chosen words, then – when some invisible limit had been reached – walk away. Leave her alone. Because alone and angry was where she was safe. Alone and angry felt strong to her, even as she knew how wrong that was, what a faithless coward she was being.  
  
This time though, she watched his face as her verbal hits fell, exactly where she’d aimed them. But something else was going on, something she couldn’t predict. Another limit had been reached. And no matter how hard she pushed, he wouldn’t push back. He refused to match the force with which she was pushing him away so determinedly. No matter how easy she made it for him to turn and go, Castle wouldn’t walk away. This time, he wasn’t giving up. But then neither was she. She didn’t know how. She tried to intimidate him physically, drawing closer, pinning his eyes. They both knew she could take him down bodily if she really wanted to, but even that underlying threat didn’t cause him to falter. He stood toe to toe with her, his gaze not relinquishing hers for a second, making Kate feel trapped, disorientated, confused.  
  
Because this was not the way this was supposed to go. She thought he knew the score. She thought they both knew the boundaries she had set and the many reasons they shouldn’t cross them. _Couldn’t_ cross them. But he did. He crossed them when, instead of responding to her verbally, he just zoomed in, planting his mouth over hers in an unexpected kiss. And with that, everything crumbled. All they’d built, all his fabulous pretence, all her precious resistance. Gone, in a mind-blowing millisecond. He didn’t grab her or hold her in place. His hands didn’t even touch her. It was just his mouth on hers, quick and hard and hot and desperate. She could have pulled back, she could easily have broken it off after the first initial shock had passed. And when he retreated, she could have turned on her heel and walked implacably away. She should have. But she didn’t. It might have been easy, smart even, to simply dismiss this new tactic of his. If it was one. She suspected the move was not a tactic at all. Castle was finally done playing, it seemed. He was serious. His kiss was honest, a pure response from a man whose responses generally were.  
  
She’d robbed him of that over the years. Turned him into a liar, made him as scared of her as she was of him. Made him believe that this thing that pulsed between them could be stemmed, stopped, controlled, denied, when apparently, it couldn’t be. Particularly not in that moment. In that moment when time seemed to stand still for a heartbeat or two, in that moment when they gaped at each other with wet, wanting mouths and wide, wondering eyes -- despite every conceivable impediment they’d each placed in the way -- they had become inevitable. There were no more games to play, no reason she could think of to play them. She was done thinking, done playing, done resisting. It was too exhausting, especially when the thing she kept on resisting was the one thing that gave her the strength, hope and energy to keep on living her lonely mess of a life.  
  
Her body gave easily under his next advance. She met his kiss with one of her own, clinging to his body as she stumbled backwards and hit wall. She let out a little ‘oomph’ at the impact, followed by a moan, the sound muffled by his tongue. She couldn’t help it -- just as she couldn’t help moaning when he’d kissed her in that car park, though she’d known in the back of her mind it was a ruse. Not entirely a ruse, she’d known that too – but partially. Of course, now, she was pretty damn sure that Castle was doing everything he could to make her moan. So she let out another, longer moan, yanking his shirt from his pants as his mouth broke from hers, breathlessly attacking her neck instead. There was little of it for him to get at though. Grunting impatiently, he tried to nose his way around the turtleneck she was wearing, tugging at the high collar with probing fingers. When he gave up and began to lift her top from the hem, she felt a moment of hesitation. Her hands stopped his, causing his eyes to lift to hers, searching, hesitant, hopeful.  
  
Was she going to stop this? No. For all her strength, she wasn’t strong enough for that. She just needed a moment before she revealed this to him, the place she’d been cracked open, her guts bared and her heart meddled with then restarted until precarious life took hold again. Castle waited, kissed her once, murmured her name, hands resting patiently on her waist, one finger from each hand grazing her flesh. Kate took a breath, lifted her sweater at the hem and pulled it up over her head, letting her hair settle back to her shoulders. The scar running across her ribcage was no longer as red or shocking as it was when she left the hospital. But it was there, a neat, raised line below her left breast. A lingering companion to the puckered hole where the sniper’s bullet had entered her body and wreaked havoc on her innards. She rubbed a balm on both every night but – like her less visible scars – the twin wounds still haunted her.  
  
She shivered as he ran one finger over the ugly gash splitting her side, her breath deepening and making her breasts fall heavily above his hand. Her eyes closed over briefly as his thumb passed over the smaller, round scar, the contact as soft as a whisper. She wished he would touch her anywhere but there. Trust Rick Castle to hone in on the sorest of her sore spots, get her right where she was the most vulnerable. It wasn’t until his eyes met hers, welling with multiple emotions, that she realized that the scar shielding her heart was his sore spot too. The one in her side represented his most vulnerable point as well because it recalled the day he almost became as wounded as she. He’d almost had to survive what she had, over twelve years earlier. But he hadn’t. And she was glad to have spared him the pain she lived with. In truth, she was grateful for these particular scars. Because as much as they were a constant reminder of her near death, they also served as a reminder of her life, her luck and the fact that she, Kate Beckett, had gotten a second chance at life. Living it was really her only option.  
  
He uttered her name again and undid the clasp between her breasts, letting the cups still cover her as he bent to kiss the fateful line that would probably always mar her. Her hands went to his hair and within a moment she was holding on tight as the heat that had flared mere moments before reignited. He gathered her up, face buried between her breasts as he blindly made his way towards her bedroom. He stumbled on threshold, banging his shoulder into the frame. So Kate unwound her legs from his body and slid to the floor, grabbing his shirtfront to drag him towards her bed. His hands moved to her jeans as hers began to unbutton his shirt. He toed off his shoes as they shuffled their way across the floor, mouths fused and hands desperate. When her legs hit the edge of the bed, she sat, abandoning his shirt in favor of shoving her jeans the rest of the way off. Then her hands were lifting to his belt, unfastening him swiftly, divesting him without further thought as Castle whipped off his shirt and began to move over her. She scooted back on the bed, running her hands up his sides as he settled his weight on top of her, reinitiating their kiss.  
  
Lifting her legs to bracket his hips, Kate moaned as she felt him press against her core through the thin shield of her underwear. His hips pressed firmer against her, making her break their kiss and gasp his name. His last name still. Old habits die hard. Castle’s mouth was venturing lower, attacking her bared neck the way he couldn’t before and giving equal tenderness to the tips of her breasts as he did to the wound beneath one. He continued downwards, big hands running over her skin, following the path of his mouth, making her squirm with anticipation and pleasure. His hair brushed her stomach and he looked up at her as he kissed her there before slowly peeling off her underwear. She helped, lifting one leg at a time, garnering a kiss for each knee as she did. His hands ran up her legs, parted them before his eyes lowered and his mouth moved in. The first touch of his lips against her slippery flesh was almost too much to handle. She had to throw an arm over her eyes when he followed it by dragging his stubble-ripened chin up through her brimming wetness.  
  
“You taste amazing,” he told her after another lingering lick.  
  
They were the first words either of them had spoken since the accusations they’d recklessly hurled at each other earlier. Kate lifted her arm to glance down at him. There was little to say to this though so she simply used her foot to guide him back to where she wanted him. He did not resist, warm palms running up her inner thighs as his mouth went to work, nipping, teasing, plunging, sucking. He always did have a smart mouth, it was more than gratifying to have him put it to good use. And nobody had done this to her in the longest time. Not their fault – hers. She’d avoided it. Not because she didn’t enjoy it. Quite the opposite. It was simply too intimate for her to even contemplate allowing with any of the men she’d shared her bed with since…since meeting Castle, actually. Her orgasm came on the back of this mini revelation and was such a powerful shock to her system that she jerked almost completely upright, her head flung back and a guttural groan emanating from her throat as her body arched, suspended over the pillows for a long moment.  
  
Castle kissed his way back up her body as she melted backwards again, eyes closed and breathing shallow. He kissed her face, shoulders, hair until she had wits enough to open her eyes and pull him in for a kiss, her mouth even more starved for him than before. The only thing that would satisfy her now that they were finally here was feeling him inside her. The idea was overwhelming. Just being in bed with him, naked, touching him, kissing him, having him touch and kiss her after all this time, there was something almost surreal about it. But the excruciating wait, that surreal intimacy, only heightened the pleasure. She reached between them as he kissed her, stroking his length once before guiding him to her entrance. And then he was parting her, pushing inside, gently and a bit at a time, gasping against her mouth with each tiny thrust. Her hands ran over him endlessly, possessively really -- another thing she could not help. Any more than she could help his name falling from her lips as he bottomed out inside her.  
  
For a moment, neither could do anything but breathe. His body sagged heavily on top of her, both relieved of and taut with tension. He repeated her name, face buried against her chest. He didn’t lift it as he pulled out then pushed back in again. He groaned, felt her answering shudder, then did it again. Slower, savoring every millimetre. Kate wrapped her legs high round his hips and moved with him, relishing the slow burn of this initial joining. Not that she didn’t also enjoy what came next. Unpredictable as ever, Castle pulled back, rolling them so she was on top. She went with him, keeping her body close, her chest grazing his as her hands planted either side of his head and she kissed him, tilting her head this way and that. She couldn’t help smiling as he kissed her back so hungrily. There was so much darkness surrounding them, so much darkness he’d rid her of. So much waiting and fighting and misunderstanding leading up to this. Yet, the intense sweetness of this moment almost made it all worthwhile.  
  
She began to move her hips against his, lazily at first, though it wasn’t long before the mounting tension became unbearable. So she sat up, hauling him with her. Castle went, folding his legs beneath her, wrapping his arms about her. And that was perfect, she thought, settling fully into his lap. It only took them three tries but they found the perfect position for their sweaty, entwined bodies. He was so deep this way, so close, under and in and all round her. She could touch him everywhere as they rocked together, locked together. It occurred to her vaguely how out of character that was for her. In the past, during sex, she liked being touched but didn’t necessarily feel a burning need to touch, to hold someone flush against her. She’d never possessed that kind of fascination for someone’s flesh before. If anything, she preferred a little distance to separate her from her bed partner, as odd as that sounded. She didn't generally like a position where she was plastered against someone and could experience with them their every breath and quiver and sweat bead.

It was what she wanted now though, what she needed with Castle. He of the infamous last name. Her eyes opened with a startling thought, to see his staring right back at her. Probably for the first time in her life, she wasn’t just having sex. She was making love with someone, to a man she loved, a man who adored the hell out of her and always had. Just the idea made her breath hitch in panic. But another part of her had a very different reaction. Her back arced sharply with her next orgasm, the strands of her hair dipping low enough to tickle his feet. She cried out like she never had before, clamping down on him and drawing him deeper than anyone had ever been. When she came to, she was still moving with him very slightly, fingernails digging into his back, damp forehead resting near his ear.  
  
“You’re the most incredible thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” he told her, hands smoothing over her back. “D’you know that?”  
  
She laughed languidly, head lolling back to look at him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied. An old quip but a significant one, recalling just one of many missed opportunities. She looked at him, ran a hand down his face. “Your turn now.”  
  
He smiled, brushing her dishevelled hair behind one glistening shoulder. “Nuh-uh, I want to see you do that again first.”  
  
“You’ll get other opportunities for that,” she muttered, leaning in to kiss his jaw.  
  
He tipped his head back, lifted one brow. “I will?”  
  
Kate met his gaze, decided to answer this query with another kiss, a deeper one, one that hopefully told him everything he needed to know. Yes, she was a fighter. Yes, she’d fought this. For years. Much longer and harder than she should’ve. But if she could fight against it that hard then she could also fight for it, twice as hard. She finished their kiss and levelled him with a look. Then, placing both hands flat on his chest, she pushed him back on her bed. Castle landed with a soft thump and a dumb grin. She ran her hands up his body then covered it with her own. She began moving her hips against his more purposefully as his hands roved all over her, cupping her ass, caressing her breasts, delving into her hair. When he began to meet her thrusts equally, one hand drifting down to their joining to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves, he got what he wanted, watching with avid eyes as she came around him once again.  
  
She could feel his eyes all over her as she did, as she always could, as she had been able to from the very beginning of their association. It was something she grew grudgingly used to at first, then came to rely on, even sometimes need. She never wanted to lose the way he looked at her. Her chest had ached when he’d walked away from her outside that book signing, when he’d looked at her with anger in his eyes, with three months’ worth of stored up hurt and blame that she completely and absolutely deserved. She’d never meant to make him care for her like that. She’d never wanted to have that sort power over him, the power to wound. For years, she’d dismissed the idea that she did. But he’d given it to her. She owned that power now whether she’d wanted to or not. And she wasn’t sure she could imagine not possessing it now; not being the unspoken guardian of his heart. Just as she couldn’t imagine living without his constant, careful observation; being the muse of his oddball mind. Like her career and her mother’s death, it was something that had come to define her. In getting into her head as he’d done, in writing her as much as he had, Richard Castle had come to define her in some strange way. Sometimes she could even see herself through his eyes, she could glimpse how spectacular he thought her to be. Truth was, around him, she often felt pretty spectacular. He gave her that, daily. She existed more fully within his presence. With Castle, she was seen, she was understood. But more than that, much more, she was loved, outright and honest.  
  
Her final orgasm fading, Kate worked on earning his. It wasn’t far behind. She whispered his name in his ear right before it hit. His first name. It didn’t feel right. Not completely. She’d only ever used it when challenging him or teasing him. But she wanted to close that last little distance between them. And it was something she’d get used to. The first name thing. Like she’d get used to being this close to someone, needing someone. Being loved by a man who could not walk away from her, would never give up on her, no matter what. She’d make herself get used to it. She’d make herself stop fighting it. She would let that long-standing wall she’d built about herself finally crumble and collapse and not do a thing to stop it. Because in Rick Castle, she’d not just found an opponent worth fighting with, she’d also found a man worth fighting for. And a Love worth giving in for.  
  
So for the first time in her life, Kate Beckett willingly surrendered.  
  
_END_.

Find the rest of my Castle fic [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/812100/Mindy35).


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